A personal blog from librarian who is progressive and pagan, discussing politics, current events, and books.

Saturday, January 26, 2008

Poetry; Rose in the Desert

I was at a lecture the other day related to the internet. The speaker asked what can we find on the net, and mentioned this, that, and the other thing, and lots of really bad poetry. Reminded me of my own poetry which I mostly wrote as catharsis over a few years. The emotional stress eventually dried up, and I realized that I had said everything I wanted to say, and so far the muse hasn't returned, though I keep meaning to see if I can entice her back.

Anyway, I thought that as long as I have a blog, which is an exercise in vanity anyway, why not post some of what I consider my better poems. I don't think it can lower the level of poetry out there. ;-).

So here is the first one:

ROSE IN THE DESERT

Dark is the night, and frigid cold.Yet the air is pure and opens the senses.Faint scents drift on the wind.The dry taste of dust is upon the tongue.No color save the blue-white danceof endless stars sprawled lazilyacross the night sky.No sounds save the faint noiseof life that flourishes even herein the desert, life skitteringor sliding across the gritty sand.The vigil has been kept the wholeof the night, the mind going deepas each clear pure breath is drawn.Eyes closed, the wind touchesthe face, and each molecule drawnin as breath connects the dreamerto the whole. Each star is a friend,a beacon; each grain of sand a universe;each breeze a touch of hope.The vigil draws near its close.Black night turns indigo, the windblows its coldest.The sky turns delicate, then blazesblues, golds, orange hues.Moment by moment the viewbecomes more clear, detailsand colors sketch themselves in the light.Before the dreamer is the object of the quest;one single sweet and perfect rose,velvet against the sand.The dreamer draws in breath,a tear falling on the cheek.Gazing on the rose,touching lightly its glory andsmelling the faint scent,the sorrows and joys, heartbreaksand loves too much to beardrop away into the sand.Always remembered, and againtomorrow perhaps too heavy to hold.Yet the rose brings to the dreamerthe harmony of the universal core;the peace outside of time.Drawing in the sweet scent once more,the dreamer turns away,renewed, to share the burdensof life one more day, to bear the memoryof the peace within the heart.